Buffy shot him a look. "We're patrolling." The vampire surveyed the blanket they were sitting on that had been spread out on the lush grass and the picnic basket just beyond his reach. He quirked an eyebrow at her idea of 'patrolling.' "With refreshments."

"Buffy, you packed enough to feed the minions of hell."

"Yeah, well, they're not invited," she huffed, laying the food out on the blanket between them. "And if any vamps crash, they get the leftovers -- my stake." Buffy pulled one out of the basket and held it up in emphasis.

"What do you say we put that away for now," the slightly nervous vampire said, reaching over and pulling it away from the Slayer.

She smiled innocently while unwrapping a sandwich. "Don't worry, honey, you're the exception to the rule." Glancing around, Buffy idly bit into her turkey club. "It's dead tonight."

"It's dead every night," Angel smirked.

"Only Xander is allow to make dumb jokes, remember?" she teased. Angel feigned a pout...which on him looked a bit ridiculous, since he *was* a two hundred and fifty year old vampire...but Buffy was willing to overlook that. He was so darn cute, after all, and with his lip jutting out just so... She leaned over and kissed him sweetly, sipping at the pouty lip before delving eagerly into his mouth with her questing tongue, seeking his out to play. He met her halfway, his tongue rubbing hers enticingly as their lips met in fast, furious kisses. Angel hauled her closer, running his fingers up under the bottom of her shirt teasingly, caressing the smooth skin he found there. Buffy whimpered at the contact, wrapping her arms around his neck and shifting over so she could get closer to him. They went on like that for some time, touching, groping, kissing, and what had started out as an innocent smooch quickly turned into a heated necking session, until finally Buffy pulled away, gasping for breath.

"I thought you liked my dumb jokes," Angel said as Buffy put her sandwich aside and snuggled into his side. The vampire wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her tiny body, protecting her with his large frame. Buffy rested her head in the crook of his neck and he shifted, tucking her against him with his chin.

"It's definitely an improvement from Mr. I Like To Brood In Dark Corners, but you've still got a ways to go before you're as witty as, say, me," she grinned, craning her neck to peer up at him.

"I don't think I'll ever be witty."

"Why, because it doesn't go with the tall dark and mysteriousness that is Angel?" Buffy smiled.

He tightened his grip on her. "You're witty enough for the both of us." They sat in silence for a few moments before Angel said, "Buffy, we're on patrol. Shouldn't we be...patrolling?"

"Angel, it's the 4th of July!" Buffy cried, pulling away from him in shock.

The vampire grimaced. "I know there's a point buried in there somewhere, but I seem to be missing it. Might have something to do with me being a foreigner."

Buffy ignored him. "It's a time to celebrate our freedom!" she said, tucking her legs beneath her so that they were at eye level. "Relish the power that is the good old U. S. of A., bask in the glory of our flag...admire ourselves for being the bestest nation in the world, even!" Angel was staring at her incredulously, and she shook her head and plunged on. It wasn't her fault he didn't get it. "It's like one day of patting our whole country on the back, and we should be honoring that. We should be thanking our forefathers, and, uh...more famous dead people who helped build this country up, not sitting here in some cemetery waiting for the dead to rise."

"A day to celebrate your country's birth, which most Americans seem to do by getting really drunk and holding lots of parades," the Irish vampire said, sighing at the absurdity of it all. How was marching down a block and sending off loud, bright, annoying fireworks paying homage to one's country? He shrugged. Americans.

"Well, yeah."

Angel sighed. "I just don't get it. I mean, a parade? What's the purpose of a parade?"

"Angel, you're not being very patriotic here."

"I'm not American. I'm Irish. And we Irish didn't have parades. Well, unless someone was going to the stocks."

"What, never had them in the old country?" Buffy asked, leaning back against him. He looked down at her, wondering if she was mocking him. One look in her twinkling eyes was all he needed to know that she most definitely was. "The English must not have either, since Giles was the one who made me patrol in the first place. What a few marching bands and some cheesy floats would do for those stuck-up Brits... Besides, parades are tradition. We're showing off to everyone that we're proud to be Americans. Like that song!"

Angel picked apart her rather mindless ramble. "So you decided that the perfect way to exact your revenge on Giles was to sit in the middle of the cemetery having a picnic?" He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're such a rebel."

Buffy batted her eyes playfully at him. "Well, there's that...and I wanted to get some alone time with my favorite vampire."

"All you had to do was ask," Angel purred, nipping at her ear. She giggled, swatting him away.

"Yeah, *while* I was giving you a blow job," Buffy reminded him.

"Why Miss Summers, did that vulgar term just come out of your innocent little mouth?" he smirked. Angel gathered her in his arms and seated her on his lap, pinning her in place, his face a hairsbreadth from hers. "Do I have to wash it out with soap?"

"You can wash it out with something else," she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at him. Smiling, Angel leaned forward across the few millimeters that separated them and captured her lips in a bruising kiss, hauling her up against his chest, his hands wandering over her muscular back before moving down her sides, exploring her curves. The moan that escaped her mouth was swallowed in his as she threaded her fingers through the hairs at the base of his neck and tugged him closer still, slipping her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt teasingly.

Their lips met wetly as Angel slid a hand between their bodies to fondle her breast gently, a move that earned him a high-pitched squeak from his lover. Grinning against her mouth, he traced its curve lovingly before moving up to pinch the nipple that poked through the thin material of her shirt.

"Mmm..." she sighed as she began undulating in a slow rhythm in his lap, rubbing her aching cleft against the rapidly growing erection that was straining against the confines of his slacks. Angel tore his lips from hers for a moment to yank her tiny t-shirt up and away from her body, her breasts bouncing free of their confinement. She had opted to leave her bra where it had been tossed on their apartment floor, knowing it would just get in the way later. "It's been a while since we've done it in the cemetery," she panted before Angel reclaimed her mouth again for a smoldering kiss with a chuckle.

Their tongues tangled wetly as he reached up, cupping both of her soft, firm breasts in his large hands. Buffy keened softly, throwing her head back and thrusting her chest towards his mouth. Never one to deny her, Angel bent his head and captured one of her erect nipples in his mouth, tugging on the tiny bud before laving it soothingly. His fingers pinched and rolled her neglected nipple while he worked the other into a frenzy, suckling as though he were a baby.

"Angel," she breathed, a serene smile on her lips as she threaded her fingers through his silky hair, detaching him from her and, as he whined in protest, guided him to her other breast. Quickly latching on, Angel nibbled at the hard peak as his hand explored the breast he'd just been suckling, tracing the underside before sliding his hand over the entire globe, testing its weight.

Buffy panted, her skin flushed, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her skin. The night air was warm and a gentle breeze blew, caressing her damp body and soothing the wet nipple Angel had abandoned for its twin. She opened her eyes and stared up into the heavens, tracing the lines of the stars with her eye in her pleasure-drunken state. Angel continued his assault on her as Buffy ground herself against his confined erection, their late-night picnic long forgotten.

Suddenly she found herself on her back, Angel looming over her with a silly grin on his face. He lowered his lips to her face, pressing tiny kisses to her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. Giggling, Buffy reached for his belt, quickly working the buckle and slipping it out of the loops of his slacks. With a hiss of metal on metal his zipper was pulled down, and he aided her in pushing his pants off his hips and kicking them away after toeing his shoes off. His shirt was quickly discarded, her sandals and jeans following, until they were both naked, pressed skin to skin.

"No more foreplay," Buffy whispered, "just get inside." Angel chuckled at her forwardness, sliding a thick thigh between her legs to spread them, making room for himself at the center of her body. He kissed her again as a finger dipped into the moisture at her core, parting her swollen lips easily and earning him a squeak from his beautiful lover. He knew her body so well, knew just how to touch her, the right amount of pressure to put on her most sensitive spots...he was, after all, quite practiced in the area of sex.

He glided through her moisture, circling the tender nub of her clitoris before abandoning it in favor of slipping his finger inside of her scalding heat. Buffy whined, "Come *on*, Angel, don't wait," as he slid the digit in and out of her slowly, teasingly. A second finger joined the first, seeking out the bit of raised flesh deep inside of her core. He flicked it a few times in rapid succession, which caused Buffy to screech and wrap her arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he curved his fingers upward, rubbing a particularly sensitive spot that sent her moaning and bucking in his arms.

"Like that?" he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"Oh yeah," she replied breathlessly, her hips meeting his fingers with a wet smack each time. She was so close, so very close...just a little more, just--

They were gone, suddenly, and Buffy nearly screamed in annoyance at being denied her release...until she felt Angel brush her sex with his hand again as he guided himself to her entrance. "Finally," she grumbled at the feel of his thick tip rubbing up against her, her hands running down miles of the hard expanse of his back to his clenched behind, massaging the hard globes she encountered.

Bracing himself above her on his elbow, the vampire flexed his hips, probing her with the head of his thick cock. "Patience is a virtue, Buffy," he chided with a smirk as she whined her frustration.

"Sex is the exception," she retorted, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss. She nearly bit his lower lip when he entered her shallowly, waiting in breathless anticipation for his cool, hard length to fill her completely.

She didn't have to wait long. Angel drove home, gliding into her wet heat easily. In moments he was seated fully inside of her, groaning as her vice-like muscles rippled around him, accommodating his large hard cock.

"Ohhhhhhh God," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut at the waves of pleasure that crashed through her in a fury, igniting every cell on fire. Angel withdrew slowly, letting her feel every inch of his deliciously long erection before thrusting back in, driving himself as deep inside of her as he could.

And then there was a deafening explosion.

The couple jumped, sexes smacking together in shock as they clung to one another, searching for the cause. Buffy turned her startled gaze up to the sky, seeing the remnants of color and light from the firework that had startled them.

"Another tradition," she said with a happy smile, pointing towards the sky.

Angel breathed out, shaking his head. The motion made his hips jerk lightly against her, allowing his pelvis to caress her aching clit. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Your heart doesn't beat," she reminded him, giggling. One hand came up to rest over his silent chest, and she scratched her nails across his pert nipple, toying with the hard nub of flesh for a moment.

"Yeah," Angel said, his voice husky. "And it's a good thing it doesn't, it would've stopped because of that damn noise."

"It was a firework, Angel," Buffy chided, wrapping her legs around his hips and guiding his cool mouth down to hers. "It won't bite, I promise."

"Wish I could say the same for me," he murmured, smirking against her skin as his lips skimming the old scar on the side of her neck. Buffy shuddered, her hips moving up to meet him as he drove into her again, his cock rubbing against her swollen tissue as he thrust easily, seating himself inside of her fully.

Another firework exploded above their heads, lighting up the night sky for a split second with a multitude of bright colors. It was followed by another, and then another. Angel picked up the rhythm, thrusting in when one went off and pulling back at the next. The slow rhythm was exquisite torture, allowing them to tease each other mercilessly. Buffy squeezed him tightly on one thrust; Angel rolled his hips a few times in rapid succession, allowing him to put pressure on every inch of her wet sex.

"You're missing the fireworks," she panted after one of his jarring thrusts, pouting slightly. She'd put a lot of thought and planning into this, wanting to make sure that they were able to view the display from the cemetery...and he was missing them. Granted, he was missing them because they were having sex so she wasn't going to complain *that* much (not when he felt as good as he did, so hard and huge and cold inside of her), but he was still missing them.

"I can hear them just fine," Angel smiled, punctuating his words with another thrust at the loud explosion of another one going off.

"But you can't see them."

"Yes I can," he whispered, leaning down to lick at her lips as he pumped into her again, his hands coming up to explore her curves while he lay on top of her fully, allowing every inch of their skins to touch fully. "They're reflected in your hazel eyes."

Buffy snorted. "Honey, Elizabeth Barrett Browning you're not."

Angel pulled back to look at her. "I'm going to attempt to be witty here and reply with a big 'duh.'" He reminded her just how much he *wasn't* like the famous female poet with another thrust, pushing his sex into hers with a wet smack, his heavy balls smacking against her bottom.

"You can't steal one of my phrases and claim to be witty. That's cheating," she informed him.

Angel rolled them over suddenly, clasping his hands behind his head and watching her with a twinkle in his eyes, obviously ready to let her do all the work. "Now I can see them."

"Good," Buffy giggled, throwing her head back as she raised herself off his cock, pulling away from him before slamming herself back down. Her hands quickly found purchase on his chest as she rode him hard and fast, their silly game long forgotten. Buffy writhed and moaned above him, throwing her head back as she impaled herself on him over and over again. Angel reached up, palming her sweaty breasts and pinching her sensitive nipples as Buffy squeaked and drove him into her harder, faster, racing them to their peaks.

She was moaning and whimpering and shrieking all at once, lost in a sea of pleasure as a powerful orgasm caught her in its thrall. Bucking and straining against him helplessly, Buffy rode out the long waves of pleasure while still impaling herself on him, craving more, needing more.

There was nothing in the world to her besides Angel, no sacred duties or world-ending prophecies or vampires...well, save for the one beneath her. He was so deep inside of her, so far that she was sure he'd never be able to get out again, never be able to leave her body. Their fingers interlaced and he braced her up, allowing her to put most of her weight on their joined hands for leverage as she rose and fell on his cock, their bodies crashing together in a harmony all their own.

Their pace sped up until they were a blur of sweaty, over-sensitized flesh, Buffy's cries and Angel's grunts echoing through the silent cemetery while above them the finale to the show shone against the black curtain of night that blanketed the earth. Angel loosened one of their hands and moved it down to play with her clit lightly, wanting her to come again, this time with him.

With an ear-piercing scream Buffy shattered once more, shaking and bucking and shuddering above him as she saw stars in her vision, an extremely powerful orgasm sweeping through her, consuming her in its fire. Angel had never seen anything so beautiful, and watching her in the throes of her orgasm triggered his own. Helplessly, his hips pumped up into her tight heat in jerky, uneven motions, spurting his cool seed into her core. Her rippling muscles massaged him as he spilled inside of her, straining to plant his seed as deep into her womb as he could.

Buffy collapsed onto his chest with a sigh, her vaginal walls mildly fluttering around his cock in the wake of her mind-blowing orgasm. Instinctively, Angel wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against him as her breathing slowly returned to normal. He was still buried deep within her body, thrusting gently into her well-loved flesh as his own orgasm subsided.

Angel pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply for a long moment before depositing a tender kiss on her forehead. Tiredly, Buffy raised her head and rubbed her nose against his in an Eskimo kiss before nuzzling his cheek with her own, slumping back against him and fighting the urge to fall asleep right there on top of him. He was so very comfy...and still warm from their lovemaking...and she was so tired from the multiple orgasms she'd had (not that she was complaining, having a two hundred and fifty year-old lover definitely had its benefits) that she was dangerously close to slipping into an exhausted sleep.

"I love you," she murmured against his sculpted chest.

"Is that the orgasm talking?" Angel asked suspiciously. Buffy sighed happily, shaking her blonde head.

"Nope. I loved you even before you could give me orgasms, remember?"

"Yeah," he said, caught up in the memories. "I remember."

"Hey. Post-coital brooding is not allowed," Buffy whispered. She moaned when his softening cock slipped out of her, and she managed to slide off of him and onto the blanket. Rolling over, Buffy cuddled up against his side, throwing a heavy arm over his chest.

She felt something cool and wet against her back and frowned. "Umm...Angel? You didn't...miss, did you?"

"Miss?" he repeated, craning his neck down to look at her quizzically. She jerked a thumb at her back, and suddenly he understood. "No, Buffy, I definitely didn't miss. I never miss," he said with a chuckle. "You rolled over onto a piece of watermelon."

"Oh," she said sheepishly, twisting her body to try and see the piece of fruit. "Just checking."

"Mmm," Angel murmured as he urged her to turn onto her stomach. "Let me help you with that." He knelt between her splayed legs and licked up some of the sweet, sticky juice that dribbled down her spine, and Buffy raised herself up on her elbows and knees, waving her backside in his face tantalizingly.

With what sounded suspiciously like a growl, Angel grasped her hips in his hands and plunged his face between her thighs. Buffy shuddered at the first touch of his tongue on her highly sensitive sex, bucking back into his incredibly talented mouth. He brought her to a quick, hot peak before moving to kneel behind her. With a sigh, he sheathed himself fully inside of her again, stretching her to the limit.

The night was still young, after all.

The End

NOTE: Yes, the "staking" part in the title is a definitely double entendre. That was all Janice too. I have some sick friends, I know. ;)

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